I'm Sorry, Veronica
by Le Cinnamon Tea
Summary: A Courier with a low Speech skill tries to apologize to a grieving Veronica.


A/N: It bothered me so much when I got back to the Lucky 38 after carrying out Mr. House's orders and Veronica is just like "What's up?". Let's imagine that Veronica figures out what happens after the Battle of Hoover Dam.

Please R&R!

* * *

Veronica?

It's me.

…

I know you can hear me in there. Can you at least let me in?

Please?

Okay. You can keep the door shut, that's fine.

I, uh, I understand how you feel.

Actually, no, I probably don't understand what you're going through right now.

I have definitely never been through what's happened to you.

It's just that, I mean, I understand what happened.

…

Well, of course I understand considering I'm the one that caused it.

Shit.

Okay, uh.

What I mean to say, is that, well, I, uh—

Okay.

I'll start over.

*ahem*

Veronica, I'm…sorry.

That I destroyed the Brotherhood of Steel.

And killed Elder McNamara.

And the Head Paladin. And Head Scribe.

Pretty much everyone. Yikes, jeez, this conversation really isn't going the way I wanted it to.

…

Look, Veronica, it wasn't as if I betrayed them.

Well, actually, it kind of was a betrayal. They did induct me into their ranks.

And then I blew up their bunker.

Okay, not my best move, I'll admit.

The Brotherhood was your family, and all that.

But, y'know, they weren't the best people if you think about it. Remember the dudes that tried to kill us because we were bringing new technology for McNamara?

Mr. House had some pretty good reasoning—the Brotherhood would never have accepted his vision of progress. I couldn't exactly say 'no' to the giant, two hundred year old computer…man…thing, could I?

…

Veronica, could you please unlock the door?

…

I swear, I will have Lily just knock it down.

…

Or I'll just punch it down. You taught me how, remember?

…

We were compadres. Best amigos. We hoofed it from one side of the Mojave wasteland to the next together.

You got to punch the radscorpion population halfway to extinction. That was pretty fun.

Oh, and remember our adventures at the Ultra-Luxe?

You got your fancy dress there.

Admittedly it was looted from a dead body, but it _was_ a very nice dress.

…

…

Listen, Veronica, the thing is, I'd still like it if you could stay.

You're a part of the team! Think about all the good we could do together. How much your punching could solve with Mr. House's resources behind it?

We were an awesome, killer squad. You, Me, Cass, Boone—

Well, actually the NCR just laid down a trade embargo, which includes whisky imports, so Cass is probably not in.

And I did betray the NCR, so Boone is kind of out as well.

Wow. Okay. Give me a second.

…

…

…

…

Hey.

You still there?

Okay, well.

I know I'm not the smartest guy. I don't know the first thing about computers, or fancy technology, or anything like that.

But I know that sometimes hard decisions have to be made.

It might mean going against something you believe in so that the greater cause benefits.

It might mean that people you know are going to die.

Sometimes diplomacy can't solve everything. Sometimes the only way out is through using bullets.

I really wish there was a better way. One where we all could talk about our problems, live in harmony together, find a method to solve our disputes peacefully.

But there isn't, most of the time.

With the Brotherhood…there was no hope in negotiation. Mr. House made that point very clear.

But also…

We've killed a lot of people in the past few months. Slavers, raiders, drugged-up Fiends.

And we always justify it, saying that we're making the world a better place. It's how we get to sleep each night.

But at the end of the day, we still ended a life. That feller wearing spikes and charging at you with a baseball bat? He was once a newborn baby, coming from his mama's womb. In the spurt of the moment, of course we don't think about it. We don't think about their names. Their personality. We don't even think about the possibility that they were a real person. We just kill them, as easily as you would carve up a Brahmin for dinner.

…

The Brotherhood? I knew them. They were people. Good people. I remind myself of that every day. And I know I will never be able to forgive myself for destroying them.

But this is probably not the last time I'll end a life. Can I say that I'm still trying to make the world a better place?

Yeah, I can say that. Because that's what I still believe. Even if that means I do terrible things.  
And that belief is what has kept me alive all this time. It's what's brought us all together. It's what is helping change the course of the Mojave.

It's what brought a courier with a bullet in his head and a Brotherhood scribe in secondhand robes together, traveling up and down old World highways.

…

I'm sorry, Veronica. More than you know. More than I can express. I've never been good with…talking…words…and stuff.

But I'm not asking you to forgive me. I'm not asking you to do anything.

It's just…

I'm sorry.


End file.
